


On the Wire

by DragonThistle



Series: A Black Backpack Full of Fireworks [2]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Black Hat doesn't miss anything when it comes to his employees, Torture, descriptions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/pseuds/DragonThistle
Summary: Flug works hard to impress his boss. Probably a little bit too hard.





	On the Wire

“Out!”

“Aw, but—“

“Out! Out! Get out!”

“Spoil sport!”

“Demencia, I swear to the Nine Circles of Hell itself, if you don’t get out of my lab _this instant_ —“

“You’ll what, Fluggy? Lecture me?”

Flug’s hand dove inside the inner pocket of his lab coat and withdrew one of his wicked daggers, spinning it in his fingers. Demencia scowled at him but slunk away. She stuck her tongue out at him as she darted out the lab door but he just shook his dagger threateningly until the door slammed shut on her heels.

He was in a rather foul mood.

His head hurt, sending a throbbing pulse behind his eyes that made it difficult to focus. Which was terribly inconvenient as his boss expected him to have a new toy to show off today. In—Flug glanced at the clock—a half an hour.

Fuck.

The inventor stowed his dagger away and shuffled back to his work bench, flopping onto the stool with a groan. His back ached, his feet were sore, and his fingers were numb under his work gloves. He’d been hammering away at this latest piece for two days now, napping in short bursts to keep himself sharp and taking meals in his lab rather than in the dining room with the rest of the crew. Black Hat had been a bit sour with him about that but he knew little could deter Flug’s obsessive behavior when the inventor got going on a new project.

Flug smoothed out the wrinkled blueprints in front of him, frowning at his own scratchy handwriting and the sharp white lines. He traced his fingertips over his calculations and details, running over the schematics in his head. He’d checkered, rechecked, and checked again for errors. There was nothing wrong, his work was nearly flawless. But the anxiety and fear that shivered through him whenever he had to present to Black Hat made him doubt his own work.

He swallowed the lump in his throat so that it got stuck halfway down his chest and choked the air trying to escape his lungs. Then he straightened his back, swept his blueprints up into his arms, and stomped across the lab to a side door. He pushed a code into a keypad, stepped inside, and let it slide shut behind him. Within was a hall lined in heavy steel doors, each labeled with an electronic display and keypad. The hall was eerily silent, the rooms soundproofed and sealed against outside interference. This was Flug’s collection. Or maybe his inventory would be a better word. Whatever he called them, all they really happened to be were lab rats. Unfortunate heroes who had stepped on Black Hat’s turf or wasteful humans who had crossed Flug for some reason or another.

The room he needed was only a few steps away but he still fumbled over the keypad with nervous energy and nearly dropped his papers when it groaned open.

The interior stank of sweat and fear but these were things Flug had grown accustomed to and readily ignored. He marched briskly across the room, leaving the door open as he did so, and placed his blueprints and notes on the worktable, spreading them out so he could view them easily. This done, he took a moment to shake back the sleeve of his lab coat and peel a glove forward to check his watch. Good, he still had five minutes before—

“Dr. Flug!”

The man jumped a good foot in the air, letting out a squeak of surprise and clutching at the lapels of his lab coat. His heart hammered panic against his ribcage as he spun around to see Black Hat standing menacingly in the doorway of the room. The villain always struck an impressive figure; tall, straight-backed, that single eye burning with power beyond imagination. The air around Black Hat always carried a chill, as if the very molecules of the universe feared him. As they should.

“B-boss!” Flug fumbled, tripping backwards on the heels of his converse to bump against the work table. The jolt sent a pulse of pain behind his eyes.

“Whatever you’ve got to show me had better be good,” Black Hat growled, moving further into the room. The heavy door slammed shut behind, “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time on it, Flug, so if it fails to impress…”

“Yes, sir! Of course, sir! Right this way!” Flug gestured to the center of the room, a spring working its way into his step as he began showing his latest work, “This is a brand new device, a little larger than our usual stock but well worth its weight. Still workshopping the name but I present to you the latest in torture technology!” And he thrust his arms out wide, excitement shining behind his darkened goggles.

Situated in the center of the room was a cylinder of steel and glass, lined in soft green lights. Inside the container was a well built woman, held in place my thick steel cables stretching her arms and legs taut. Her mouth was moving, her face red as she shouted, though there was no sound coming from the container. Black Hat raised an eyebrow, giving the device a critical sweep before he addressed his employee,

“Glass, Dr. Flug? Seems a rather poor design choice.”

They both knew Black Hat was testing the waters and Flug responded with a squinty-eyed smile that was lost beneath his bag, “Hardly, sir! That’s reinforced, carbon-steel based, bullet proof glass! A bomb could go off inside that container and that glass wouldn’t break!” He tapped his gloved knuckles on the glass and flinched away when the hero in the unit snapped her jaws at him, “A-aha, moving right along, sir, there is a soundproofing option which I currently have activated so we can speak in peace. It comes fully equipped with nearly every conceivable torture method including waterboarding, a rack, thumbscrews, sensory deprivation, and countless more! The control pad,” He swept up a handheld device from his work table, indicating the array of buttons and the display screen, “Can be customized so your favorite forms of torture are right here on speed dial!” He looked up at Black Hat, chest puffed up, nearly standing on his toes with excitement, “S-so what do you think, sir?”

Flug was proud of himself. Black Hat would be lying if he didn’t say he enjoyed the glow that came off the inventor at the pride in his work. The villain basked in it for only a moment before he allowed a sly smile to flit across his gray features,

“Intriguing, my good doctor, you seem to have outdone yourself this time,” Black Hat pretended he didn’t feel a brief fireworks display go off in his chest as Flug beamed at the words, “I have to ask, though, how the hell did you manage to capture Shatterbeam and keep her contained?”

Black Hat couldn’t see Flug’s face through the paper bag but he could tell when that prideful smile turned into an almost sinister grin by the simple shift of the inventor’s posture, “She picked the fight, sir, I just finished it. And the device can be set to release all sort of different waves and signals to cancel out superpowers and the like.” He pointed to the display on the control pad in his hand, “It’s currently set to release timed pulses of soundwaves at a certain frequency. This cancels out her ability to create sonic blasts as they are instantly negated by the device. I haven’t calibrated for every potential superpower out there so we might have to release upgraded models in the future.”

“Excellent!” Black Hat clapped Flug on the back so hard that the inventor stumbled and almost dropped the control pad. When he’d regained his balance and tugged his lab coat straight, he jumped back slightly when he found his boss leering inches from his face, “Now I do believe it’s time for a demonstration, wouldn’t you say?”

Flug blinked, nodded, and turned to face the containment unit, “Of course, sir!”

“Sound on, if you please, Dr. Flug.”

“As you wish, sir.”

A button was pressed on the control device and the room was suddenly filled with Shatterbeam’s furious shouting,

“—OF A BITCH! LET ME OUT OF HERE! BLACK HAT, YOU FUCKING MOSNTER! DEMON! I’LL FUCKING BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT! YOUR LITTLE TWINK’S TUBE CAN’T HOLD ME FOR LONG! I’LL FUCKING SHOW YOU, YA’ COCK-SUCKING—“

“Rude.” Black Hat growled, knuckles cracking as he flexed his fingers.

“Relax, sir, she’ll be silent soon enough.” Flug’s fingers twitched over the controls as he scanned his device, “I think a basic display of the functions should be good for now.” And he pressed a button.

Shatterbeam’s foul-mouthed tirade was broken off into screams of pain, her body arching and shuddering as waves of electricity rolled over her. Tears and drool smeared down her face as the charge coursed through her, fizzling on her nerve endings and making her short cropped hair stand on end. Flug pressed the button again and the captured hero sagged in her bonds, gasping and hiccuping, chest heaving as she tried to recover from the mere fifteen agonizing seconds of electrical torture.

“I do enjoy a classic electrocution,” Black Hat hummed, tapping a finger to his chin, “But what else can it do? Surely you’ve got something nasty up that sleeve of yours, doctor~”

Flug shivered at the coy praise and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the edge of the control pad. He struggled to control the flush creeping into his skin as he cleared his throat, “Ah, w-well, actually, sir, I was kind of hoping to save this for last…”

“I don’t have all day, Flug.” A threatening growl this time that made the inventor’s shoulders hike up to his ears as he curled over the device in his hands.

“Y-yes, sir! I’ve also installed some nice, uh, toys for when you’re feeling particularly…vengeful but don’t want to make a mess or get your hands dirty.” Flug keyed something into the device and looked up expectantly at the cylinder where Shatterbeam was starting to get her vigor back, growling and yanking at the cables and clamps securing her. Flug spoke over her curses,

“It’s a smart tool, meaning it learns about its subject as it works. It can keep a subject alive for months, even years, and still continue the torture. There are various settings for this one; mild, just enough to break your subject’s mind, and so on and so forth.” There was a dark grin in the inventor’s voice as he pressed the button to execute the command, “I prefer drills myself but I thought this might be a fun alternative. Shatterbeam is lucky; this hasn’t been tested on a living being yet.”

Black Hat remained silent but there was the tugging of an eager smile on his face as Shatterbeam’s limbs were yanked taunt. The machine quickly shredded her uniform with careful snips of blades that left her red-faced and Flug coughing awkwardly. But the inventor didn’t look away for long, he wanted to see his latest work in action. The anticipation sent bubbles of excitement dancing in his chest like soda fizzing on his tongue. He rocked forward almost hungrily when glistening, hair-thin wires unraveled from the arms that dropped form the ceiling of the cylinder. Shatterbeam eyed them warily, jaw clenched, shuddering with indignation and trepidation.

The arms rotated slowly, carefully, until the wires were resting ever so lightly against her skin; atop her arms, along her back, and on the sides of her legs. They were pulled tight, straight, gossamer strands shimmering like liquid silver in the bright lights of the lab. They rested there for a moment, building the anticipation and fear. And then, very slowly, they began to slide across Shatterbeam’s skin.

At first it seemed like nothing was happening. But then the hero began to whimper in pain and Black Hat’s eye widened, a smile splitting his features as he watched. The wires must have been razor sharp because they were peeling Shatterbeam’s skin off like a potato peeler. Wafer thin curls of skin rolled from her arms and the sides of her legs, draping down and getting longer as the wires slowly, painfully slowly, made their way over her body. When they had completed their trek, they paused, and then went back to their original positions. They moved with a lethargic sort of laziness, dragging out every moment.

Black Hat expected nothing less.

“Why Dr. Flug,” The villain didn’t look away from the display as the wires completed another round only to start again, “This is positively…delicious.”

A sensation like hot wax tickled down Flug’s spine and his back arched slightly. He shivered on the tips of his toes, his shoulders hitching up and his breath catching in his throat. He glanced up at Black Hat, saw the grin on his boss’s face, saw the gleam of that acid colored saliva dripping from between those dagger teeth, and puffed his chest out as he swelled with a cocktail of emotion. For a moment, there was only the two of them. Just a boss and his employee. Just an ancient monster and his pet inventor. Just Black Hat and Flug Slys.

“What other features does your wonderful invention have?” Black Hat sounded as though he was speaking directly into Flug’s ear even though they were facing each other and standing several feet apart, “Don’t tell me you’ve already exhausted all your tricks, you pathetic waste of space.”

Oh, now that was just playing dirty.

“O-oh no, sir,” A rare, wicked smile curled under Flug’s bag, only visible by the crinkling of his eyes behind his goggles and the subtle but familiar twist in his words, “There are over a hundred methods of torture and they can even be combined for, ah, new ways to get what you want from your victims. I have the complete list of details by my blueprints, if you’ll step this way, sir.”

Shatterbeam’s whimpers were growing louder as the wires changed positions, leaving her already peeled skin raw and moving to untouched parts instead. Flug caught a glimpse of tiny beads of blood swelling from the tormented places and felt pleased with himself as he lead his boss to the side table. Their back was to the chamber as he tugged a couple printouts from his pile of papers, offering them up for Black Hat’s perusal. The villain took them without comment and began scanning the list of available tortures worked into the device. Shatterbeam had started crying.

The high pitched noise was starting to dig into that headache that was still lodged behind Flug’s eyes. Weariness was seeping into his bones and his posture slumped as the silence between himself and his boss stretched on. He casually braced a hand against the table to take some weight off his aching feet.

“My, you’ve certainly covered your bases here,” Black Hat mused, running a fingertip down the list and then flipping to the next page. He spoke over their captive guest’s escalating cries, “You should have included some older methods and instruments, though. I do so miss the days of a brazen bull or heretic’s fork. I’m a tad disappointed, Dr. Flug.”

“N-next model, sir, I assure you!” Flug said quickly, still leaning on the table. Shatterbeam was outright screaming now and he had to raise his voice a little to speak over her, “I w-was working on a more, ah, m-modernized version of a scold’s bridle if it’s any consolation?”

Black Hat hummed thoughtfully, side-eyeing the inventor who swallowed hard and shrank back a little. The fun part was over; it was all business now.

“Fine.” Black Hat snorted, dropping the papers dismissively and turning towards the door, “But it had better be as impressive as this one or _else_.”

Flug let out a squeak of fright, “Yes boss!” He sighed, slumping against the table as Black Hat walked out the door of the room. The inventor closed his eyes and let his head drop, chin almost touching his chest as let the tension ease out of his body. Maybe he’d just take a short nap and then get back to his next project—

“Dr. Flug!”

He nearly screamed and jumped back, slamming into the table again so hard it made stars pop in his vision. The pain rocketed down his spine, all the down to his sore legs, and sent a particularly painful pulse to his pounding headache. He stumbled, vision blurring for a moment, and was surprised when a hand closed around his arm, catching him, supporting him. He looked up blearily to see Black Hat standing over him, chin in the air, looking down with an air of unimpressed mockery.

“B-Black Hat, sir, I’m sorry, sir, I just tripped, I—“

“Come.” Black Hat didn’t wait for a response, just hauled Flug out of the chamber and into the silent hall.

“But what about—“

“Leave her. I think she deserves it for that back pain of yours, don’t you?”

Of course he knew. Nothing got by Black Hat. Nothing.

“Er, y-yes boss, of course. If—if I may ask, sir, um, where are we going?”

“To your room, you idiot.” Black Hat snarled, dragging the inventor out of his lab and down the corridor towards the stairs, “I can smell your exhaustion all over the mansion and it’s very distracting. Get some rest and don’t come out until you’re fit to work. I can’t have my scientist doing sub-par working and tarnishing the Black Hat name.”

Flug was quiet and kept his head down, stumbling along and letting Black Hat drag him along. The ghost of a tired smile tugged underneath his paper bag.

Black Hat always knew.


End file.
